


Christmas

by vellour



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Domestic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Holidays, One Shot, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vellour/pseuds/vellour
Summary: Draco doesn't know what he's getting himself into for his first Christmas with Hermione. One shot.





	Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for clicking on this work!
> 
> It has been four or five years since I've written any sort of fanfiction, and probably even longer that I've had a love for Harry Potter. I've recently been re-enamored by the series and one of my long lost favorite ships, Dramione! To divulge in both my creativity and passion for these characters and their relationship, I’ve decided to write once more.
> 
> This may turn into a series of one shots, who knows! Feel free to suggest ideas. And of course, please review. I love to know what my readers think.
> 
> This one shot is Christmas themed because uhhh it's Christmas time? I would have gotten it up earlier but I've been so busy the past couple weeks and I didn't want to cut down on quality. There's still two days until Christmas, so enjoy Hermione and Draco’s first one together.

DECEMBER 1st

Draco had never seen anything like it.

Everywhere he looked, Christmas stared back. Tinsel snaked across the fireplace mantel, homemade ornaments he supposed were some sort of heirloom littered every spare inch of space, and the dining room table was decked out in frosted pine cones, miniature wreaths, and tiny fairy lights. Not to mention there was the roundest, tallest pine tree Draco had ever seen–and it was nestled right in their living room. 

He stood back with a mixture of wonder and horror in his gaze, not knowing exactly where to look. The previous night they had gone to bed with everything situated the way it should, everything in its right place. But now, he felt like he’d stepped into a muggle holiday wonderland. 

“Hermione,” Draco managed out as his eyes finally darted to his girlfriend in one corner of the living area. She seemed to be the only normal thing room and was wearing an all too familiar smile of self-pleasure while meeting his gaze.

“Well?” she inquired expectantly as her arms swept in gesture of what was before them. “What do you think? I decorated for Christmas.”

Draco could clearly see that she had decorated for Christmas, but at the moment he was wondering when she’d slipped out of bed to do all of this. Had it been last night after he’d fallen asleep, or early this morning before he’d awoken? And where exactly had she stored all of this stuff now cluttering up their home? The modest cottage they resided in was a good size for two people, but two people usually didn’t come with a ton of property. Draco couldn’t imagine how he’d never come across Hermione’s extensive collection of Christmas décor.

Clearing his throat, Draco pushed back his initial reactions of apprehension as he turned to face the woman. She was the only one he would do anything to make happy, even if it meant putting up with bloody Santa Clause figurines and a ceramic snowman napkin holder until the end of the year. 

“It’s wonderful.”

DECEMBER 18th

It had been five years since the Second Wizarding War, two since the infamous Draco Malfoy and famous Hermione Granger had reconciled their differences. In all honesty, it was Draco who had made a plethora of changes in his life and he still couldn’t believe he and Hermione had been able to form a friendship, let alone a romantic relationship. They’d both grown up after Hogwarts, Draco especially, and after many long hours conversing and seeing from fresh perspectives the past had been laid to rest. Now, nearly twelve months since the beginning of their romance, they were celebrating their first Christmas together.

Draco would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the decadent lifestyle of the Malfoy’s, what with their estate and servants and how he had never wanted for anything. Living on his own with Hermione was quaint, to put it nicely; it wasn’t much, but it certainly felt more “homey” than the stone walls of the Manor ever had.

The pair had never been together on the holidays as they’d only become a couple after the last new year and moved in just months ago. Draco had first come to terms with and then come to appreciate Hermione’s love for her muggle heritage, but that didn’t mean her traditions and mannerisms sometimes shocked him. She may have been a witch, but he was constantly reminded that the entire rest of her family was not. This fact made for some quirks that Draco found quite interesting.

As soon as December had started, Hermione went into Christmas mode. The first change to happen were the carols she sang, off key tunes that Draco had never heard before. He couldn’t bring himself to like jingles about “decking the halls” (admittedly, at first, he’d thought the song was about throwing punches) and a big fat man watching them all year to see if they were naughty or nice. From what Hermione had shared about Santa Clause, he was positive his child-self would have received coal every year.

“Oh, lighten up!” Hermione would cheerily command of him whenever he groaned about her repetitive Christmas songs. He loved her to bits, but there was only so much the ears could take.

“You’re lucky it’s only seven more days ‘til Christmas is over,” Draco had grumbled back with a short glance towards the Christmas countdown calendar hanging in their kitchen to see which pocket and its corresponding date the tiny painted wooden candy cane rested in that day.

DECEMBER 25th

On Christmas Day, Draco awoke to the bed space next to him already empty. He sighed heavily and rolled over to where Hermione should have rested, but the sheets were cold and told him she’d been up for a while already. He frowned, unhappy about this situation that hardly ever befell them. It was some sort of unspoken rule that they woke up together, all intertwined limbs under a mass of duvet. Draco loved to press his face into Hermione’s sea of curls as he was waking up, her scent and warmth being the one true sense of comfort he had these days. When she wasn’t there, he had to drag himself up all alone. Didn’t she know he relied on her to prepare him for the day?

Draco threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood on the cold wooden floor, then summoned a cloak for over his pajamas. As he opened the door to their bedroom, a variety of smells ranging from cinnamon to orange to clove stimulated his sense of smell. It was enough to assume Hermione was cooking up a storm downstairs, something he wasn’t used to. Descending into the kitchen, the sight was almost enough to make up for Hermione’s absence in bed that morning.

Almost.

Draco watched in amusement as she twirled around the room with a spatula in one hand and cookbook in the other. She came to a stop in front of the stove, then pushed sizzling pieces of bacon around a pan. Like always, there was a Christmas carol slipping through her lips, but this time in a hush that was likely in order to not wake the Malfoy man. He barely recognized it as the one about flying horses that pulled the fat man in a cart through the sky. How he managed to fit the entire world’s gifts in that cart, Draco didn’t know.

In addition to the bacon there were pancakes and fresh cider with orange slices floating on top for breakfast, a stew in the “crock pot” (a muggle invention Draco wouldn’t admit he thought very clever), sugar cookies cooling on racks, and a myriad of side dishes to go with their dinner that afternoon. It was impressive, seeing as the clock only read 9:30. Draco wondered how early Hermione had risen to whip everything up. 

“Have enough food, do we?” he quipped with his signature smirk. Hermione visibly startled and turned around quickly to look at him, her surprised expression melting into one of sincerity upon seeing him standing there. 

“We’re having guests over today, Draco, and it’s my–our–first time hosting Christmas. I want it to be special,” she explained while gesturing her spatula hand towards the crowded counter tops. 

Draco crossed the small room in just a few strides, then gently took the utensil and book from his witch before snaking his arms around her waist. “You’re brilliant, you know?” he murmured as his face tucked into her wild hair like he’d wanted to do earlier. There was something so sickly domestic about holding Hermione in his arms in their kitchen on Christmas morning that the old Draco would have gagged just thinking about. The new Draco, however, could find nothing he’d rather be doing.

The way Hermione relaxed in his embrace warmed Draco’s heart. He felt her place a hand on his chest, nimble fingers starting to trace the collar of his button down flannel shirt. The blond knew there wasn’t much the amazing Hermione Granger couldn’t do, but Draco was certain she couldn’t fathom how much he actually appreciated her. With how far they’d come together since their school days, anyone would have a hard time believing just how head over heels he was. Draco’s pureblood ancestors would roll in their graves, but he’d declare his love for the witch currently situated in his embrace anytime, anywhere. Perhaps he hadn’t done a good job appreciating her over the past month as she’d decorated their home and tried to bring holiday cheer to it. Draco was used to the stark and serious atmosphere of Malfoy Manor year round and could hardly understand that this was normal elsewhere. It made him seem like a bloody pity case, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to share in the joy Hermione had. He wanted her to know how she influenced his life, and his gratefulness for that. He wanted to be the light in her eyes like she was in his.

Just then, the oven dinged. Draco peered curiously over Hermione’s head at the contraption while wondering what else she could possibly be cooking up now, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out as Hermione separated their bodies and flicked her wand to pull the dish out. 

“Will you separate the rolls, Draco? I need to tend to the stew,” Hermione asked as she directed her wand to set the cake pan full of golden brown bread on the table. 

She didn’t have to ask twice. He’d do anything for her.

-

Three bustling hours later it was time for their guests to arrive. Draco had mostly watched from the sidelines as Hermione whirled around the house to make final preparations. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, but he doubted he’d be of any good use seeing as this was his first genuine Christmas. Hermione on the other hand had an entire lifetime of experience in making the holidays perfect, so he let her work her own magic… Literally and figuratively.

As the minutes ticked down to the official beginning of festivity, Draco grew apprehensive. His mother would be in attendance, her first Christmas away from the manor as well. After the war, the Malfoys had shut themselves in to avoid bad publicity. In their carefully calculated plan, laying low for a while would give people time to cool down and forget the atrocities the wizarding world had been through. Draco knew that would never happen, but he supposed he now saw things quite differently, especially compared to his father. Lucius had defected from Voldemort in the last second, but that didn’t mean it was for the right reasons. He’d keep his mouth shut outside of Malfoy Manor’s fortified walls but becoming a recluse hadn’t changed the man. As for Narcissa, she didn’t discuss the war much; at least, she hadn’t while Draco lived in the manor the first two years afterwards. He could see subtle shifts in her and even though at a certain level he was afraid to ask, he wanted to believe she was in a relatively similar position as him.

With the Malfoys’ current dispositions, it wasn’t logical at all to invite Lucius. Not only would he certainly find a muggle Christmas wretched, but when he’d found out Draco’s relations to Hermione… well, no amount of changing values in the wizarding world could contain his contempt. Draco simply resented the ideologies he knew would always plague the Malfoys, but fortunately he didn’t have to subject himself to it any longer. He’d been the boy who had no choice, then the boy who had made all the wrong choices. Now he was his own man making what he desperately hoped to be the right choices.

On a completely different side of apprehension, the Grangers would also be guests. Draco had only met Hermione’s parents on one occasion and was still very much nervous about making a good impression. After all, they’d brought up the most amazing witch he was now happy to call his. They didn’t know anything about Voldemort, the war, or Draco’s family. They didn’t know anything about his past at all, and if they did, he was willing to bet his last galleon they wouldn’t want Hermione with him. Draco didn’t blame that one bit. However, having a second chance with Hermione and being able to associate with her parents who didn’t know of his shameful first 18 years of existence was probably the best blessing he could receive.

And finally, most dreadfully, Potter and his Weasley wife would be in attendance. When Hermione had first told Draco the guest list, he’d groaned childishly at her friends coming. Even though Draco regretted how he’d treated them all and would for the rest of his life, it didn’t mean he had to be friends with Potter. They’d never gotten along and likely never would, something Draco was completely content with. Hermione, on the other hand, liked to meddle. She was holding out hope that the Christmas cheer would move something in the two men. Utter rubbish, Draco thought, but if it made her happy. . .

Draco was sitting on the sofa mentally preparing himself for the festivities when Hermione breezed in, her eyes wide and alert, her wild hair even more lively than usual. 

“Everyone should be here within minutes. Of course, we’ll give my parents more leeway seeing as they can’t apparate, but your mother, Harry, and Ginny will be arriving any minute,” she prattled on while reaching quickly across her boyfriend to fluff a throw pillow. As Hermione turned to adjust something on the fireplace, Draco captured her hand in both of his with a slight squeeze.

“Love, take a breath,” he told her slowly. Draco was used to seeing Hermione bustling around, always with something on her mind and something to do, but she was absolutely wired today. He gently tugged her into his lap, still holding her hand in one of his own while the other moved to the small of her back.

Hermione sighed heavily as she sank gracefully against Draco’s body. He turned his face towards her neck and pressed a couple light kisses against the soft skin.

“Everything will be fine. You’ve done more than enough to make it a memorable Christmas,” Draco assured her with an encouraging smile. 

Seeing Hermione smile back in warm gratitude made dealing with Potter and she-Weasley well worth it. Draco could clearly see how much this meant to Hermione and he was determined to do his best to make everything go perfectly. He could never make up those dreadful school years to Hermione, but he would spend every day making their future brighter.

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured as her eyes dropped to Draco’s lips. He smirked and closed the distance between them with a swift, chaste kiss. It would have lasted much longer to his liking, but it was at that moment the doorbell rang. Hermione sprang to her feet in an instant, leaving Draco as she went to let their guests in.

Hands on his knees, Draco pushed himself up and followed her to the door.

It was his mother, standing on their front step in her best dress robes of emerald velvet. She looked as stiff and proper as ever, but Draco knew that behind the façade she’d learned to wear since childhood was a woman finally warming up to the world. Hermione, the gracious woman she was, had already welcomed Narcissa earnestly. The two were in an embrace when Draco approached, and he was relieved to see a small smile on his mother’s lips. 

“Merry Christmas, mother,” he greeted her, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it briefly. 

“Draco, my son, Merry Christmas to you as well. Thank you both for inviting me,” Narcissa answered smoothly with even composure a Malfoy could conquer up in any situation. 

It was strange to Draco how drastically things had changed since the war. He could never forget where they’d been just a few short years ago, but watching his girlfriend invite a woman who had once watched her suffer at the hands of their family into their home really struck a chord in him. He’d cracked under the pressure of Voldemort and his army, never considering that there was opportunity to change. Never would he have dreamt something like this, yet it was now reality. It was astounding.

Draco only had moments to admire the two women conversing in the kitchen before there was a green blast and yell coming from the fire. Whipping around, he watched Potter tumble out onto the floor, followed by Weasley. Draco wanted to narrow his eyes and snap something about them making a floo powder mess of their living room, but then Hermione was back again talking excitedly to her friends and he decided to just keep it to himself. His former Death Eater mother, his biggest enemy, and his girlfriend’s muggle parents would all be in their home soon. He had enough to worry about already.

Half an hour later, everyone was sitting around the table as Hermione brought in the last of the Christmas dishes. Draco, seated at the head of the table, surveyed the odd group with intrigue bordering on discomfort. When his eyes finally fell to his plate, it occurred to Draco that everyone here was probably thinking the same thing about how they were together for the holidays. It was unconventional, no doubt. He couldn’t be the only one who never would have seen himself in this position. But it was Hermione, that wonderful witch, who had brought them together. Hermione who saw the good and potential in each person here today, that they could come together and actually enjoy themselves. Draco watched her lovingly as she finally took her spot at the table, thanking gods that she was able to see good in him no one else ever had.

All in all, Draco needn’t have worried about the get together at all. Jean Granger and Narcissa spent the entire afternoon sharing stories of their childhoods and how different a muggle and pureblood witch grew up. Potter was a surprisingly good Wizard’s Chess player, as Draco found out with only minor sour feelings upon being beat. Draco even got along just fine with Hermione’s father, who was a sports man with real interest in Quidditch. And as for Weasley, well, Draco would have her over any time if he got to watch his beautiful Hermione laugh like a teenage girl again with her best friend. 

At a Malfoy Christmas, the atmosphere was boring at best. There were no games, no gag gifts, no cheers to friends and family. The way Christmas was going this year, Draco actually wished his childhood would have been more like it. Even his mother, a through-and-through Malfoy, seemed to enjoy the muggle traditions Hermione incorporated. They’d spent most of their lives rejecting anything out of custom—to their own loss. If there was anything Hermione had taught Draco about the holidays, it was that happiness didn’t come from a bloodline or power. It came from the heart.

Later that evening, after everyone had exchanged their farewells and headed out, and the entire house had been cleaned with a few flicks and waves of wands, Draco and Hermione were able to settle down on the sofa and enjoy some peace. The crackling fire was the only sound for a minute as the two silently reveled in each other’s presence.

Draco wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, tugging her gently against him until she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Today was a success, don’t you think?” she hummed.

Draco laughed shortly, thinking about how his head had spun for the first 30 minutes of all their guest’s presence. “Only because of you,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Hermione scoffed, lifting her had to look at Draco unconvinced. “And you think I didn’t notice how you actually, truly smiled? I nearly dropped the cider when I saw you and Harry playing chess together. I thought, ‘That can’t be. Does the winner get to hex the loser? Are they perhaps under the Imperious Curse? Is a—”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” Draco cut her off dryly with a roll of his eyes. He couldn’t help but smile when she laughed softly at him, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear and kissed her temple lightly. “Tell me how I got so lucky,” he whispered against her skin, eyes closing. He never felt worthy to hold Hermione in his arms, but he was a selfish man who would touch her every chance he got.

Instead of answering him, he felt Hermione place a hand on his thigh delicately, the other moving up to cup his cheek. Draco didn’t look at her while her thumb brushed over his face slowly. He already knew how she would answer—that she was just as lucky. Hermione was truly the brightest witch of her age, but some things Draco just didn’t believe her on.

She surprised him, though, when after a few moments she broke the silence to say, “You’re not lucky. You’re honestly, undoubtedly, good-hearted. I’ve watched you turn a treacherous life around and forge a new, authentic one. I know it hasn’t been easy. I know it feels foreign and unsteady to you. But I also know you’re not one to give up. You’re one of the bravest, most determined people I’ve met, Draco. I love you infinitely for who you’ve become.”

Draco opened his eyes then, looking into hers with an intensity of love he’d never felt before. Hermione was perfect in so many ways that sometimes he thought she couldn’t possibly get any better. But then she proved him wrong time and time again.

Suddenly, the tacky tinsel and Christmas figurines strewn about their living room appeared as embellishments fit for a king. Draco would drag that ruddy pine tree through the forest a thousand times more and hold a ladder steady while Hermione spent five whole minutes perfectly placing a star atop it, something magic could easily do instead. He’d sing any Christmas carol she wanted at the top of his lungs until he passed out from asphyxiation. Anything she wanted from him, she would get. He’d give her the heavens if he could.

“Merriest of Christmases, my love,” he told Hermione. He took her face in his hands like it was the most precious thing in existence, then sealed their lips in a kiss.


End file.
